


It Goes Like this

by ticktockclockwork



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork
Summary: "I love you.""I hate you.""They look the same to me."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 144





	It Goes Like this

Sometimes it goes like this:

They stop in a town not far from a hill and not far from that hill a monster is eating the locals. In this town not far from that hill, Geralt speaks to an alderman about a contract to stop the monster, whatever the cost. A deal is struck, coin is arranged and Geralt leaves the town and heads for the hill to do the job that was agreed upon.

When the witcher returns, more often than not, his success can be measured by how little of him remains untouched. Jaskier will strike up a song and chooses the one that bothers Geralt less than he will admit and more than Jaskier would like. It pays for their room and it pays for their food and while the bard is still singing, it pays for a bath so Geralt can clean himself up.

Geralt goes to bed with a chair against his door and Jaskier goes to bed with someone else and they wake the next morning in the town not far from the hill and leave before anyone can make them.

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

They are sitting by a fire in a clearing on a hill with no towns or monsters to be seen and Geralt is sharpening his swords and Jaskier is tuning his lute and Geralt stops at the sound of nothing. He looks up and to his left and he watches the sky and he sees things Jaskier could never imagine and remembers things Jaskier would want to forget and he comes to a decision without asking for Jaskier's advice. 

Geralt goes to bed with his back to the bard and Jaskier watches for longer than his heart should allow and when he wakes in the morning Geralt is already packed and waiting by Roach. 

"I'll drop you off at the next town." He says and waits for no reply.

"Alright." Jaskier replies anyways and waits for no explanation. 

He packs his things and is quiet throughout and doesn't feel abandoned because that would imply they had belonged to each other to begin with and he's wise enough to know the truth about that.

They part at the crossroads into town and Jaskier doesn't watch him leave.

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

Jaskier is playing for a princeling’s coronation and his pockets are full and his body has been satisfied by a few of the courtesans and he doesn’t remark when a witcher enters the hall. His fingers stay steady and he smiles like he’s ready and knew he was coming all along. He never finds out why the witcher was invited and he wonders why he forgot to ask but when they’re together again at a table he remembers why it’s so hard to do anything normal when the man has brought himself back.

“You look well.” He hears Geralt say and can’t stop himself from hoping and wishing and thinking that maybe things will be different this time.

“I am.”

“You look happy.”

“I am.”

“There’s a ghoul infestation two towns over. I’m heading that way next.”

“I think I can make something out of that.”

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

Jaskier holds his abdomen tight to keep his innards where they belong and the blood spilling from between his fingers is warm but not as warm as Geralt who has crowded the bard behind him so that the next time the barghest lunges he'll hit silver instead of skin. He feels woozy from the blood loss and he thinks this may be it and thinks it could be worse and thinks it could be better too. Geralt pulls away from his front and Jaskier slides down the wall he'd been pressed against and he counts his heartbeats so he doesn't have to hear Geralt kill the thing that tried to kill him. He wants it dead and he's ashamed of what he wants but he figures shame is for men who aren't currently trying to maintain a singular form.

"Don't move." Geralt orders and if Jaskier’s hands weren't keeping himself together he'd perhaps laugh because moving didn't even occur to him. "Don't die." He hears and it's quieter and Jaskier thinks he can try but he makes no promises given he lost count of his heartbeats when they started to slow.

He's horizontal before he can count the next beat and his hands are pulled away although he resists and it's not until Geralt snarls for him to let go does he let his hands fall to his sides.

"I'll come apart." He warns and it's poetic and it's ugly and Geralt snarls again and maybe Jaskier truly is dying because it sounds desperate which is not how Geralt usually sounds. There's a fire in his gut as Geralt pours something over his wound and he's screaming now because he knows he truly is going to fall apart but before he can his body gives into mercy and he blacks out from the pain. 

He wakes up in an inn three days ride away and he's paid up for a month and the healer says a man sold a princess's golden broach for his services but the man didn't stick around so it doesn't count like it should. He's alive but he was right when he said he'd come apart and as he leaves a month later on unsteady legs he knows he'll never be whole again.

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

Jaskier is in a town next to the coast and he hears about a mutant with white hair and cat’s eyes and he knows he's staying at the cheapest inn near the docks because he asked even though his heart begged him not to. And when he catches a glimpse of the man in the market the next day he hates himself more for hesitating before turning in the other direction. He stays away from the docks and the inn and the taverns and he hears about him despite it all and he hates the other now more than he hates himself because this would all be so much easier if the world weren't so small.

He leaves before sunrise and hops on a ship taking him somewhere with no monsters and no hunters and no cruel and beautiful men and he wishes he could forget ever meeting someone who could so thoroughly and thoughtlessly steal his heart.

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

"Destiny can go fuck herself."

"Jaskier."

"Fate can do the same. And you know what, Geralt? How about you join them."

"Jas."

"Fuck you."

"Jaskier."

"No."

"Just-"

"No!"

"Please."

"Go away."

"..."

"Now."

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

He wakes in the bed he paid for but not the bed he'd intended and he wakes with the worst hangover he's ever had. He throws up twice in what he hopes is a bucket and not his boot and he drinks straight from the basin of fresh water near the vanity and he doesn't notice Geralt is there until he looks up in the mirror and sees him standing as far away from Jaskier as he can manage. Jaskier gives him an ugly look and wipes his arm across his mouth and only then notices he is without his shirt.

"You got sick last night too." Geralt is quiet but his voice still splits Jaskier open and Jaskier isn't proud of what he does next but pride is for men with who aren't trying to keep themselves together. He grabs the pitcher next to the basin and he turns and he throws it so hard it shatters against Geralt's armor clad shoulder, soaking the witcher in water and there is a satisfaction in seeing the other so shocked and so wet and Jaskier touches over the scars on his abdomen because he swears he's splitting open all over again, satisfaction or not. He’s spilling out all over the dirty floor as he grabs a bottle of ink next and watches as the other dodges it so it shatters black memories against the wall. His grief is everywhere as Geralt approaches, batting away his song book and his comb and his tin of boot polish and he's painting the walls with his agony as he twists away when Geralt reaches for him, wraps his arms around his middle, touches the lines of history carved deep across his gut. They fold to the floor and Jaskier loses his composure as he leans into the other, digging his nails into the arms that hold him in place.

"I loved you." He curses, branding the other with the truth he's carried with him for years.

"And now?" Geralt asks against his skin and he's trembling and Jaskier feels it on his shoulder, his cheek, his ear. 

"I hate you." 

"Is that all?"

"No."

"I love you."

"I hate you."

"They look the same to me."

"I hate you."

"I don't know the difference."

"I hate you."

"I want to know the difference."

  
Sometimes it goes like this:

They stop in a town not far from a hill and not far from that hill a monster is eating the locals. In this town not far from that hill, Geralt speaks to an alderman about a contract to stop the monster, whatever the cost. A deal is struck, coin is arranged and Geralt leaves the town and heads for the hill to do the job that was agreed upon.

When the witcher returns his success can be measured by how little of him remains untouched and Jaskier strikes up a song and chooses the one that no longer bothers Geralt though he will never admit it. It pays for their room and it pays for their food and when the bard stops singing, it pays for their bath so Geralt can clean himself up and Jaskier can watch.

Geralt goes to bed with a chair against their door and Jaskier goes to bed with him, and he teaches him lessons in love and how it feels in the low rays of moonlight so he can never mistake it again. They wake the next morning in the town not far from the hill and leave before anyone can make them.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been two years since I wrote any fanfiction and I no longer know whats good and whats trash. I'll take either.
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@ticktockclockwork](https://ticktockclockwork.tumblr.com/)


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